


because this life is mine

by Anchan (Anchan_thevolleyballplayer)



Category: ITZY (Band), Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, First Meetings, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, inspired by Wannabe, more members will be involved, one blueberry struggling and the other giving solutions, we have two blueberries sharing struggles, what else is there to say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:07:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28637487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anchan_thevolleyballplayer/pseuds/Anchan
Summary: There's no need to be somethingI'm the best when I'm myselfI wanna be me, me, me
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han & Shin Ryujin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	because this life is mine

**Author's Note:**

> I survived 2020 just nice but seem to be breaking down at the start of '21 so yay here comes another comfort fic!
> 
> If everything goes according to plan (read: roll 2 dice for sanity) there should be more parts coming out, featuring the other members of itzy providing some kind of comfort to stray kids members. All platonic of course, because there's never enough friendship focused fics.

The sink feels cold underneath his palms, contrasting his burning skin – he clutches onto the surface despite the uncomfortable burn.

His heart is beating wildly in his chest, from both adrenaline and nerves. If he’s going to endure this any longer, he might implode – and what he’s about to do maybe isn’t the ideal solution, but he could think of a dozen of worse ideas, so he’s good.

He crouches down to where his purse is lying uselessly by his leg, content spilling onto the dirty tiles. Well, it’s not like he cares right now. A lot more is already scattered around the sink, dozen of tissues soaked with colours.

Getting a hold of the scissors he sneaked out from class, he holds them to his bangs. He barely sees anything from behind them, the reflection staring at him through a blue curtain of hair.

It’s not that he’s wavering, more like looking at which streaks to cut.

He _could_ push down on the handles if he wanted to.

“Chill, you don’t look so sure of yourself,” comes from his left, and he almost shrieks and jumps, but he’s very aware of the sharp object in his hand.

The girl standing afar is smiling softly, a similar shade of blue decorating her hair. They flow past her shoulders, a length Jisung can only dream of. The confidence she radiates is another thing he envies.

“Any last words?” she says, stepping closer to take the scissors away from him.

Jisung helplessly reaches out for them but doesn’t push past the girl’s boundary. Instead, he straightens himself, relieved to find that he’s taller despite her overwhelming presence.

“I-I’m not doing that, don’t worry,” he assures her, eyeing his scissors, “just… getting a haircut?”

She doesn’t reply, attention turning towards the mirror.

“Don’t you think mine are too long?”

“Uh, not really,” he shakes his head – he’s not sure if he’s supposed to _compliment_ her, but he doesn’t feel like doing so. “They’re just fine.”

She smirks at that, pleased with the answer. Then, her eyes follow Jisung’s reflection, seeing the hand that tugs at his hair self-consciously. “What about yours?”

It’s been a few weeks since he has last dyed his hair, but he likes the blue colour, even as it’s fading. It goes well with ripped jeans, and it looks _edgy._ Not too wild, and definitely not enough to make him look like a bad boy – but it _does_ give him confidence.

His haircut, not as much.

It used to – Jisung used to love the way it bounced around his head when he laughed and danced, the smooth pillow to sleep on in classes, the soft corners of his personality shining through his poofy hair.

“Need to get shorter,” he sighs. “That’s what I was about to do, anyway.”

The girl hums, ignoring the answer in favour of staring him down. It’s mildly intimidating, but it doesn’t look like the judging stares he’s used to. More with interest, curiosity.

“I think they’re cool,” she finally says, beaming, and reaches out to pull one of her strands towards Jisung’s scalp – probably to compare the colour. Jisung’s hair is much more faded and has never been that vibrant in the first place. “Do you not like them?”

“I- they shouldn’t be that long,” Jisung stumbles out, watching her stop in motion for a several seconds before she backs against the sink, looking at him in disbelief. 

“What’s with that wording?” she breathes out a laugh. “Doesn’t sound too convincing to me.”

It doesn’t sound convincing to Jisung either, which is why he can’t bring himself to take the last step. Through it all, the teasing and harsh comments and unkind stares, a small hope burns inside of his heart – that maybe, he doesn’t have to be the one to change.

It’s so much easier to just throw it away and suffer the consequences later.

But he would miss it – the hair, the last colourful edge to himself when he’s given up his usual bright appearance to hide behind a black hoodie. 

He’s not getting shaved, it’s just a shorter cut, something to make him look like he belongs.

He hates it.

“Would you please… give me the scissors?” he pleads, a little too shaken.

The sooner he’s done, the better, for everyone. It’s just a few more semesters anyway, just three more, and he’s out and free. Well, mostly free, but the public at least doesn’t dare to come close.

Attending college, maybe being accepted into an entertainment where everyone shows their unique colours, instead of being pushed into the box. “Please?” 

“No,” she replies easily. 

“Um, excuse me?” he blinks twice, then a third time.

Each time, her smile grows bigger – her expression growing somewhere between amused and comforting. Maybe if Jisung was used to it, he would give in.

“I’m not letting you cut them,” she reasons. “You clearly don’t want to.”

He outwardly _hates_ the idea of giving up this part of himself, just like he hated letting go of his cheerful attitude in favour of developing a cold front, just like he hated letting go of Pixie, and how much he hates all the mess he’s made while cleaning his make-up.

It’s a part of the camouflage you’re expected to wear at school if you want to survive, he tells himself. And one has only so much strength until he gives into the darkness, too.

Jisung whines in frustration. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“Watch me,” she answers softly, and just like that, turns to face the mirror. Her eyes stay focused as she leans above the sink and secures her bangs.

Jisung stares in horror as she pushes down, a good five centimeters falling onto the surface. 

“W-why would you do that?” he sputters. “They were so pretty!”

Within seconds, she spins around to beam onto him.

“Ha, I’m asking you the same thing!” she exclaims, pointing a finger at his nose, _too close,_ “don’t worry, they will grow back,” she adds when she takes in his alarmed expression. “I, for one, was actually thinking about a change.”

She continues styling her hair, hands stable and cuts somewhat straight. It probably isn’t her first time handling this, he realises. She seems pleased with each neatly cut strand, happy to see the difference.

Jisung grimaces, nevertheless. “Are you sure?”

When she looks at him again, her gaze is fond. At least he thinks so, but compared to her confident intro, she’s much softer. It makes him feel like a frightened puppy – he wonders if that would be bad.

“Yeah, for real,” she nods, more enthusiastic now that she’s focusing on her reflection. “I like seeing myself… bolder.”

“Hm, I like my soft side more,” he confesses, “that’s what I can pull off the best, anyway.”

Soft oversized hoodies in pastel colours, hair pins even a middle schooler would cringe at, bright pink lipstick smeared onto his lips – he misses all of it.

“Keep it, the style suits you,” she replies, placing the scissors down to flutter her hair up. Jisung takes this opportunity to take the scissors away from her. “It makes you look real.”

He almost drops them. “T-thank you.”

“Come here,” she says then, beckoning him with one hand. “Let’s fix you up.”

“Uhm, _what?”_

She does way more than just _fix him up_ , and Jisung learns that Ryujin is exceptionally good at applying make-up. He’s never had much practice, so he prefers light procedures over precise details, but she makes it work wonderfully. He only stares at himself in awe as she applies line after line to his skin.

He also learns her name, although he wasn’t asking for it.

But he doesn’t mind because she’s nice, and maybe he wants to be friends with someone who treats him nicely, for once.

“Having the society sneak up on your tail isn’t fun, I would know,” she remarks mindlessly as she works, scratching tender lines of eyeshadow into the corners of Jisung’s lids. “But sometimes you forget that you have no tail, so there isn’t anything to catch in the first place.”

That makes sense, he decides.

He feels much better by the time his make-up is done – bright and cute. More sophisticated than he would have managed, but simple enough to be overlooked if you’re not paying close attention.

Right, he feels _so right._

Judging by the pleased smile blooming on Ryujin’s face, she thinks the same.

“Much better,” she muses, inspecting Jisung from every angle. “Your true colours, so much prettier than what others want you to be.”

They stay silent after that – Jisung because he’s processing everything, and he’s not good at taking in too many things at once. Ryujin stays silent because she’s said everything she wanted out loud, and maybe because she feels that Jisung needs a breather.

It’s pleasant, though, far from an awkward silence. It’s refreshing.

“Want me to do your hair next?” she suggests, then. “We don’t have to cut it, maybe just give it a better shape- or, well, we don’t have to touch it at all.”

Her eyes widen when she remembers the circumstances they met in.

Jisung laughs weakly at the sudden change of direction, shaking his head. “I don’t mind, you seem to have experience. It wouldn’t look good if I were the one cutting it, anyway.”

“You would have cut it too short,” Ryujin argues. “What a coward.”

“Me?” he beams at her. “For being brave enough to cut _so much hair?_ ”

“Not that! For being naïve enough to think that would solve your problem, all you need is a friend to talk to, not accidentally cut your scalp and bleed out.”

“Who said I would bleed?” he shrieks, horrified, then explodes in laughter. Ryujin follows suit.

It doesn’t take long and they’re both laughing their lungs out, their mixed laughter echoing through the public bathrooms. It lights up the room brighter than the dim broken lamps.

“Are you a friend to talk to, then?” he wonders when the laughter dies down, out of breath. 

“Why else would I still be here?” Ryujin replies with a gentle smile. “You should know by now that I didn’t come here to murder you.”

“I suspected you when you first took my scissors,” Jisung teases but she doesn’t fall for it.

“What brings you here, anyway?”

“Got into detention, would be left unsupervised anyway,” Ryujin shrugs. “It’s not like I did something, but my dress code… well I’m not taking it as seriously as you do.”

“Hard to miss,” he sighs, but nods anyway. “So you’re telling me you came to school in this?”

She’s wearing baggy pants with patterns that look like they’re patched up from newspapers – if Jisung focuses hard enough, he spots a few foreign words, and he’s fairly sure _that_ one is a curse. A crop top isn’t a much better choice, although as long as it stays under the jacket it shouldn’t matter.

Never in a million years would he have the courage.

“Yeah, it’s a special day, I deserved a little treat,” she says simply. Everything about Ryujin is just _simple,_ nothing more than easy words and actions.

“Special?” Jisung echoes.

“Because you met me, obviously,” Ryujin teases back. 

“Hey, that doesn’t make sense, how would you know–” 

“That’s why it’s special for you,” she reasons. “You would have ended badly without me today.”

Maybe he would.

Maybe he should treat himself like that, too. It’s harmless, after all.

“What about we go out like this tomorrow, huh?”

Jisung turns to look at her, confused.

“Show the world,” she continues. “I’ll hold your hand if you’re too scared.”

“No thank you,” he shakes his head. “But that… doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”


End file.
